


Guilty Filthy Soul

by mahous



Category: Fables (Willingham) - All Media Types, Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Collars, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, Edgeplay, F/M, Leashes, Painplay, S&M, Sexual Roleplay, Sub!Bigby, Uppity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahous/pseuds/mahous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh please,” He pictures her rolling her eyes somewhere behind him. “You’re all bark, Wolf. You can run around snapping your fangs all over Fabletown if it keeps your frail ego intact, but when you come home to me? You cut the shit. Understand?”</p><p>“What *shit*, Mary?”</p><p>“*This* shit,” She digs her high heel into his shoulder and yanks on the leash. Bigby chokes, the icy press of a collar on his throat. “You pretending you’re not getting off on this.”<br/>------<br/>Or "PWP that escalated far beyond OP's control".</p><p>Bigby has an interesting set of wishes. Mary is the only one who can fulfill them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Filthy Soul

“Say it,” Her voice is firm, teeth clenched like the fist around his leash.

“ _No_ ,” Bigby growls. He’s on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. “I’m not your sock puppet, so quit trying to put your stupid fucking words in my mouth.”

“Oh please,” He pictures her rolling her eyes somewhere behind him. “You’re all bark, Wolf. You can run around snapping your fangs all over Fabletown if it keeps your frail ego intact, but when you come home to me? You cut the shit. Understand?”

“What _shit_ , Mary?”

“ _This_ shit,” She digs her high heel into his shoulder and yanks on the leash. Bigby chokes, the icy press of a collar on his throat. “You pretending you’re not getting off on this.”

He grits his teeth. “The only bullshit here is yours. I’m--”

Mary presses a button and a pinprick stabs his neck. Bigby babbles halfway through his next words, tries to glance over his shoulder.

She claws a handful of his hair and angles his head down, two inch nails grazing his scalp exactly where he likes it. “Quiet.”

Bigby says nothing.

“This is a shock collar,” She says, dangling the remote over his nose. In the dull glow of night shining through slatted blinds, he can’t get a good look before she snatches it away. “and I’m not afraid to kill you with it. If you’re good, you’ll make it out of this creepy little jerk-off session without permanent disfigurement. That means following orders for a change.”

Mary crouches behind him, wet lips pressed to his ears, and snakes a hand around his waist. “C’mon, Bigby. We both know what you really are.”

“The fuck are you getting at?”

“A.” Fingers prick his inner thigh, scraping through gray polyester. “Sick.” A hand runs across his crotch and he looks away. “Little.” He can hear Mary smiling as she curls her palm. Bigby swallows. “ _Dog_.”

He bites his lip.

“So, say it.”

“I don’t take orders from sociopaths.”

As Mary withdraws, she plucks the cigarettes from Bigby’s shirt pocket. With the leash wrapped firmly around one wrist, she walks the room, the sway of her hips hardly visible but so utterly there that he finds it hard to look away. The collar moves with her, rotating to strangle him from every angle, as she flops into an armchair. Legs crossed, she lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. The smoke finds its way into Bigby’s face.

“Huff & Puffs.” Mary scowls. “The hell are you doing, still smoking this shit?”

Something zaps his throat, harder this time. He holds his breath.

“That’s for being difficult.” She presses the button again. “And that’s for having terrible taste in cigarettes.” Sighing, she taps out ashes into an empty shot glass. “You want this smoke? I can’t bring myself to suffer through it, but I know you’re really into the whole maso--”

“Fuck off!”

“Here, asshole,” She crouches in front of him, cigarette poised between her fingers. “I’m doing you a favor.”

Bigby parts his lips. Mary tips up his chin with her free hand. She burns his throat with the other.

“Jesus!” He gasps, choking on nothing.

Mary laughs. “See? This is your favor! I’m helping you get off. It’s not my fault you’re into freaky shit.”

“Get these off me so I can rip you to fucking shreds.” He tries to claw at his cuffs, ringing the chain. “Do you have any idea who you’re fucking dealing with?”

“Oh, none other than the Big Bad Wolf, of course,” She fits her head in the crook of his shoulder, breathing on his neck, trailing a finger up and down his chest with growing pressure. Her hair smells like diesel fuel. “Though, right now, he looks a lot less _fearsome_ than I remember.”

He glares down at her, eyes shining a new kind of yellow, fangs glinting wet in the dark. Bigby doesn’t expect Mary to match his gaze, nor is he ready for her to hold it as she scratches five red lines through his shirt. He whimpers. He puts his head down, clamps his tongue between his teeth, but the pain, combined with the blood bubbling in thin scores down his chest, can’t silence what’s already been heard.

“Oh my god.” A smile is growing on one end of her mouth. “Was that?”

“ _No_.”

She straddles him and tugs the leash until she can see his face again. He keeps his eyes, human and defeated, on everything but her. “Yes, it was, and-- holy shit. Are you blushing? Christ, Bigby, you’re so messed up, it’s almost comical. Make that noise again.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, okay,” He hopes she can’t hear the shake in his voice.

She digs her nails in the soft flesh above his collarbone. “That was an order, dog.”

“I’m not going to fuck, fuck, shit!” Bigby pants, open mouthed, as the skin breaks. He can smell blood, taste the metallic sting in the back of his throat, ripe with Mary’s laughter.

“How could anyone--” Pointedly shifting on the bump in his lap, she licks her fingers clean between words-- “be scared of this? Of you? You’re a mess! If only Fabletown got to see you like this, getting hot at the sight of your own blood.” She laughs. “I guess they can hear you, at least!”

Wetting her palm, she reaches for him. He melts under her touch, thighs spread and twitching. There she moves softly, the only gentle act that can make him squirm and the only gentle act Mary is willing to provide. Then she kisses him for the first time all night, teeth scraping where it’ll hurt, as she pulls the remote from her back pocket.

“What’s it like, dog?” Shock. “Does it feel good to get your teeth knocked out? Your face beaten in?” Shock. “Oh, _do tell_ , Mr. Big Bad Sheriff!” Shock. “Do you take breaks to jack off every time someone roughs you up?”

He whines. “Mary,”

“Hm? What’s that? Are you finally following instruction?”

“P--” He swallows-- “please, just, oh god, Mary.”

“The whole thing, Bigby.” She rubs him harder. “Say the whole thing.”

“Fuck me.” Shock. “Please.” Shock. “Please, ruin me. I’m--” Shock. “I’m your dog, so--.” Shock. “ _Please!_ ”

Mary whispers “good boy,” in his ear, then bites it until blood runs down his neck.

Bigby comes in his pants with a ferocity he will later deny. He releases a shuddering groan from deep in his chest, fixing his eyes on the ceiling.

Mary pulls back, raises her eyebrow. “Bigby Wolf, you better not have finished already.”

“Yeah.” He says.

“Great, just fantastic,” she says and plucks herself from his lap. “Are you seriously gonna do this _every damn time?_ Ugh! Remind me to invest in a cock ring.”

“If you get these off of me,” He wiggles his wrists, which have lost circulation by now. “without being a dick about it, you can have the last of the bourbon.”

Mary feels around in the dark, snatches the key up from the floor and removes Bigby’s handcuffs. “Here,” she says, plopping them into his lap as he rubs feeling back into his hands. “Now you can arrest some poor fucker with these.”

He drags a hand down his face, absently scratching his stubble. “And another set of work clothes ruined. The hell were you doing? Stop ripping up my shirts.”

Mary laughs. “Oh please, I only do what it takes to get you off, asshole. Get a less destructive kink if you don’t want me to wreck your shit.” She wiggles her arms into her jacket as she walks into the kitchen. “Bourbon?”

“Fridge.” Bigby says, fiddling with the collar’s million latches. He looks up as she reenters the room, bottle in hand. “Are you spending the night?”

“Nah,” She yanks open the blinds, hopping onto the windowsill. Without a backward glance, she disappears into the glass. “I couldn’t stand to wake up next to Fabletown’s resident masochist.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from "Guilty Filthy Soul" by Awolnation (it actually has nothing to do with this fic, but its a rlly nice bigby song so u should check it out)


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